Prepare to Receive
by verEditor
Summary: You have a choice. The Island, or the Entrance. How's your wife?


My name is H****.E.******m

I was born in Wroclaw in 1929. My mother died in labor. My father raised me with my brother and my little sister all on a researchers salary. He was a good man.  
My general interest of science grew when my father allowed me to visit one of his research labs at Mauthausen. It was here that I saw my first glimpse of 'Hope'. Dr. Helm was always letting me 'help around' the place. At first I was only allowed to serve the 'evils' with water and food. After sometime I was eventually allowed to 'take the reigns' and soon enough I was injecting and opening 'evils'.

Every summer we would travel home to Wroclaw and in 1942 my father began research at an abandoned manufacturing plant. For a year or so he became totally isolated until investment in the project started to fade. In September of 1942 I started as an apprentice, however this time it was different. In Mauthausen I had been treated like a scientist, but here, I was no more than an 'evil'. In November my father's research was starting to grow thin and the screams of great leaders were becoming nothing more than haunting whispers. By March, my fathers research had consumed him making him incapable of love... at least he was incapable of loving me.

My father and my sister died later that year and I will never know how or why. The research had ended abruptly with the insurance of 'evils', I was forced to run. I have never seen my brother since. I fled Germany with a few of my friends. We ended up in Paris, where we were forced to acted deaf and dumb.

After some time my friends started to grow old. I had never felt like becoming old, instead I always wanted to remain a young man. In 1965 I decided to leave Paris and travel to London, it was here that I landed my first job working for the Daily Herald as an assistant proof-reader it was a really tough job which demanded dedication and long man-hours.

After 5 years of grief, I was promoted to assistant editor, which was De-monstrously boring. I decided to give up he ghost and I became a reporter. At first I was reporting local events and community issues, this progressed quickly to covering the national new bulletins and events. By this time my accent was almost completely unrecognizable.

It was here I met my wife Alison. She was only runner, fetching coffee and paper for the 'higher-ups' in the office. She seemed to take a shine to me, however, I was never that outgoing an I felt intimidated just talking to her. As she made her way up the ladder, we were eventually 'forced' to work together. A few months later, we bought our first was a one bedroom flat in Wandsworth, not the most glamorous of dwellings, but it didn't matter. We were in love and that was all we needed. In March of 1968 Alison fell pregnant. At first I was shocked because I was not entirely sure that I could father children. In early January my daughter ********* was born. She was a beautiful baby who had the most wonderful smile.

It wasn't long enough until we realised that the flat wasn't big enough so we moved again, this time to a town in Chelsea. By this time was away most of the week in various parts of the country reporting disasters, strikes and commercial misconduct. Every week Alison would take a Polaroid of ******* for me to take with me. It was in the  
April of 72 that ******** had died. It was her Asthma, we weren't even aware.

Alison was never the same.

In uncertain times, uncertain men can make uncertain decisions. Take you for example, all you do is question the validity of my story, however, did you ever take the moment to stop and ask yourselves why? I have never lied to you. I have never admitted to being anything that I was not. You however are masters of masks, you wear your uncertainties on your face. I do nothing but die and you do nothing but laugh. I have laid out the foundations of the future now, however you do not acknowledge the past that these tall buildings will stand upon you. You will receive the proof that you will desperately need in the near future, however, once it is realised, you will never hear from me again. There IS still more to find, they were criminals, they did not die, there in an ending, there isn't a future, there are more camps, there are more drugs, there isn't a GK, there is only GK, they are truth behind lies, there are creases within the pages, there are more lights and ?, there are more silencers, there are more 'horrors', you will not survive this time.

You will not survive this time.

Prepare to receive.

watch?v=n4VcEC8moio

How's your wife?


End file.
